Long Days
by RebbieChan
Summary: ficlet about a long day working on a case.


Her face was a question. Mulder walked up to her and looked in her eyes. She was exhausted, a little out of focus. It had been a long day, too long for the both of them and still the motel room with its creaking, sagging beds felt like another world away. His eyes moved down to her lips and he swayed forward a bit. "Wait," the word an unarticulated mumble. He blinked and turned his gaze back to the scene.

Her head bobbed listlessly to the side before she followed suit. There wasn't much to get out of the sight. They had their suspect at the interrogation table, no evidence to go on, and only an hour before they'd have to release him. An unfortunately familiar situation for the pair.

Now, Scully gathered from her partner's posture next to her, Mulder's theory had changed. This man was not the suspect, but possibly a witness or even a victim. With time running out, he believed guilt would bring out his voice. If so, it would mean they would be right on a new lead. If not, they could rest for a moment and gather their bearings. The muscles around her neck and shoulders blades were stiff, the backs of her legs strained in her inch and a half heels. If not, maybe they'd have the chance at a nap.

He resisted the urge to lean over and get a smile from a joke in her ear. He wasn't sure that he could shift his weight from one foot to the other without toppling half over. Scully had been right about this one. An X-File only in the sense that it hadn't been explained. This had simply been one very well thought out crime, few traces, fewer leads, more headaches. Mulder could feel one coming on now, the light overhead a mixture of not the right hue and a little too dim.

His stomach gurgled and his mouth tasted too much like dried salt, momentarily wishing he hadn't eaten through an entire bag of sunflower seeds that that day. He could go for some real food, like a greasy burger piled under soggy fries, the bun dissolving in his hands as he bit into day old uncrunchy lettuce, a too-thin tomato and a slimy but hearty patty.

I-hope-Scully-can't-read-minds paranoia crept from the back of his mind. Mulder shifted on his feet sheepishly. His eyes bore through the glass to the back of the man's head, willing him to ask for them so that his mind could move again.

She only refused to sit down for fear of not being able to get out of the chair once she got in it. Sometimes she would fantasize about these scenarios, where for once all of Mulder's paranormal theories would prove wrong and he would actually admit it. The case didn't feel like a victory. It felt like her fist time observing a surgery during medical school, standing in a pressure cooker of stress for hours and not understanding a word of what was going on.

It felt too hot to cross her arms, too hot to stand next to Mulder who in close quarters like this seemed to be a human basement radiator. It was not his usual intensity that kept him focused on their man, if he was entirely focused at all. He had a different demeanor about him, more resigned, more like a man who was just doing his job than a man who loved it. Scully could feel it in herself as well. Strange enough, a relatively normal case didn't hold her interest quite the way their usual dose did. It did not feel like the cool breath of air that was needed in the poorly lit room. Rather, it felt dull and restraining and she almost longer for Mulder to turn to her and say something like 'Mind Control, Scully,' wait for her to give him a reproachful look and continue 'why else would and otherwise helpful individual refuse to share such crucial information?'

The man held his head in his hands and shook from side to side. Mulder was right. He looked up to the officer in the room with him and asked for the two agents to be brought back in. Scully entered the room first and sat down across from him while Mulder stood behind to her right. She wanted to lean back against the back rest but instead sat on the edge of her seat, leaning forward so that her feet could firmly touch the floor. "You have something you want to tell us?" From behind her she knew Mulder was pursing his lips and standing with his hands on his hips, jacket tucked back enough that his holstered gun was visible.

Eyes flicked between the two of them. A look of panic filled his eyes before he focused in at Mulder. "I didn't know…" he started, "He was my best friend, I never thought he'd do something like this."

Scully glanced back up at Mulder. He nodded shortly. The day would continue.

"What is your friend's name?"


End file.
